The News-Herald. [volume] (Hillsboro, Highland Co., Ohio) 1886-1973, 1887-01-27

all your strugglin'. I've earned ccnsid able,
hrst and last, though my tarlents didn't run
TO stiddy work, and It's terrible hard for .
man to change his material tarlents; but it's
all been got away from me somehow or
mother, and here be. II 'twa'n't for goin'
to the poorhouse II seems as II could stan
It, But won't be burden on my poor lit
tie Mary Jane nohow. She never was
strong, Mary Jane want, and they say
she's worlxin' at the hotel and tryin' TO save
up enough to put up q monument to me
in the graveyard. II would be better for
her and for me too, II was layin' there. I
thought 'twould be easier to come home,
but I declare old friends look kind Of slant
ways at me, jest like strangers, and seem
to be in hurry fer fear should want
something Of 'em."
The pathetic, hopeless tears Of old age
rolled down his cheeks. The young man
was prodding his oaken walking stick into
the earth as vigorously as II his life depend
cd upon his success. He was thinking of
Mary Jane Moody. His conscience re-
preached him for having almost forgotten
her existence. She waited on one Of the
tables in the dining-room Of the Harbor
House-the table where the Collamore party
sat- He had only been anxious that they
should be well served; he had reproved
Mary Jane somewhat sharply when things
went wrong there. He had observed in the
early summer that she looked pale and worn
since then he had not thought of her at all.
He would scarcely have expected her to
have so much filial devotion. His impress
sion was that Mary Jane was very light She
had once been pretty; how changed she
was! He recalled the time when, at the re-
spective ages Of ten and six, he had firmly
resolved and tenderly promised to marry
Mary Jane when they grew up. After that,
in the intervals of his long absence, they
had become, In his feeling at least, like
brother and sister, until Of late he had be-
come altogether oblivious Of her.
'Lias Moody had given him shelter and
food, and clothing when his own stores we're
but scanty; but for him he must have gone
to the poor-house, or been bound out in q
kind Of slavery that was common at Hack
ett's Harbor. He had believed him to be
dead; such a report had come from Cali
fornia, where 'Lias had gone to seek his
fortune, and had felt regret that he
should never be able to make any return for
the kindness shown him. But now-old
'Lias had returned so inopportunely! He
had broken in upon his exultant mood like q
ghost at a banquet. For, although he was
So meek and apologetic, the young man felt
himself arraigned for his neglect of Mary
Jane. AS far as his material debt was con-
cerned, he might be considered to have
paid that in the presents he had made Mary
Jane. His first earnings had been devoted
to that purpose. Many time he had de-
MED himself almost the necessaries Of life
to send her Dress or pair Of gloves or a
ribbon Naturally that custom had fallen
into disuse. Mary Jane could take care Of
herself now, and probably would not wish
to accept presents from him. As for the
old mans forlorn condition, it was only the
natural result of his weak and reckless
reliance upon luck Such a course aroused
wondering contempt in Pulsifer's prudent
mind. He held theory that it was never
proper to help such people.
There was a sound of gay voices and
laughter. Ahead Of him, at a bend in the
road, he saw the board, which had
just reached the highway from side road.
There were the shining golden braids again !;
their owner turned her head furtively
around as if in search Of some one.
81 must CO." said Pulsifer. hastily, look
ing at his watch. 81 ought to be at the
hotel now. IL shall see you again.
"Jest like all Of 'em. He was in q hurry
for fear should want something of him."
said the old man to himself, with bitter
patience.
Pulsifer followed the golden braids, but
Mary Jane and her father would not be
banished from his mind He looked at her
from q new point Of view that night. She
had yellow hair, but there was no gold in it,
and it was strained back from her face in
an uncared- for and unbecoming way. Her
face was thin and sallow, and her figure
harsh, with angles where curves should
have been. How long had she looked like
this, and what had changed her so! She
must have been obliged to work hard, and
he knew that she had never been strong
he knew, but he had forgotten. He could
not forget now, although he took Miss
Seraph Collamore out rowing that evening
alone for the first time, the arrangement
having been effected by dainty maneuver
Of the young lady's, by which she outwitted
the aunt and the portly matron, who had
instilled suspicion into the single, scientific
mind of the aunt
The breeze was soft and perfumed and
the moonlight tender; the young lady was
shy, expectant, perhaps little overcome
by the boldness Of her strategy. But the
young man was constrained and silent;
discordant note seemed to ave been struck
amid the soft harmonies Of their inter.
course. AS he helped her out Of the boat
she saw that his face was very pale. "It is
only because he loves me so much and feels
the distance between u.s." she said to her.
self, little exultant thrill checking the
sigh upon her lips. Alas! that was only
another Of the 1atteriug tales which hope
has told, since the world began, to maids
and lovers by the summer sea. II she could
have known that the young mans thoughts
were with Mary Jane Moody washing dishes
in the sitting back kitchen, she might have
realized, as did her aunt and the portly
matron, the folly of trying to bridge the
social gulf between them
After he had left Seraph at the hotel Pull
sifer walked back to the pier. It was de-
serted; for the guests at the Harbor House
were chiefly middle-agod people, who pre-
ferred the sober delights Of whist to dis
porting themselves upon the moonlit waves.
AS he paced up and down, looking vainly to
the heavens above and the waters beneath
for solution to the doubts that tormented
him, hand was laid upon his arm, and he
turned to see Mary Jane, her face wan and
tear-stained in the moonlight. 81 wouldn't
have come to you, only l haven't anybody
else" she said, "and fathers come home,
and he's very sick. He was worn out; he
had walked miles and miles, with scarcely
any thing to eat, and when he got here to
his old home, there was no welcome for him.
Ebe Talby and one or two others refused
him shelter for the night; they were
afraid he would be sick on their hands.
They found him over by Porter's Ledge un-
conscious. 1t is slight shock of paralysis,
the doctor says. think he meant to drown
himself. He is at DR.. Clapp's now, but l
must urOvide a place for him have aome